Epilogue


you
only live
within my letters

hundreds
handwritten
unreplied

i
only live
when you say my name

blue
pseudonyms
reminds you of another

this
is no present
meaningless words

kept us alive
in each other's houses
no address

left
only a grave
two, i guess

Under a wide open sky beside a cool clear stream. I lie on a blanket and watch the clouds roll by. From horizon to horizon, no one can be found. I see only sweeping grass and a few lonesome trees. When all things are said and done, would a mansion be better. Would I be happier enclosed by four walls? People amass gold and silver, only to see it slip away. I sit in a tent on a piece of earth. I have what I need to live and perhaps that is enough. If more is required then nature will offer it to me. So I look at the sun as it sets and think of where the feet of many have walked and are now faded. The earth is still here and the are gone. What did they need to live and where is their mark? If not for memories of them, they would not have been at all. So I will sit a while and look at the gifts I have been given, then find rest in a small space that I have set for myself. Tomorrow, I will awaken under the same sky and again wonder, how much space do I really need.

Do you remember that old guitar that I use to play and strum
As you would set and listen, watch and hum

I found it just the other day, where it was put away
I could do no more than stare at where it lay

Time had warped it's shape a bit
All the strings where snaped and bent

Never again music would it make
Inside I felt again my heart break

I remember when it was bright and new
Of course I thought of you

How you danced, your hips and feet so smoothly flowed
While quickly over the cords my fingers would go

I would play by the roaring midnight fire
Your voice as sweet as the heavenly choir

You would stare at the stars, as they would gaze down on you
I know that you both enjoyed the view

That was all before the music up and died
No longer inside of me would it ever again reside

One moment you where full of life,  then in my arms you lay
I watched as you quickly slipped away

Now all I can do, is talk to old pictures of you
Wishing also that my life was through

Just like that old guitar,  what use is there for I
Without you there is no music, happiness or joy, all I do is cry


I found it just the other day, where it was put away
I could do no more than stare at where it lay
Never again music would it make
Inside I felt again my heart break

It's three in the morning,
And I'm sat up in bed.
My head constantly repeating,
All the things you said.

I never thought,
That it would be you.
The one to judge and scrutinize,
Everything I do.

I never tell you things,
Because secrets you cannot keep,
And if you were an ocean,
I'd be drowning deep.

Its funny how poetry
likes to be written in black
when often
it needs to be in yellow

sometimes
it isn't about loss
haunting regrets
or hollow sadness

sometimes
its about the way the sun hits the window
and wakes you up after a good night's sleep
sometimes
its about the smiles your muscles show
before you can control them
sometimes
its about a hopeful moment
in a near future
or newly changed bed sheets
or a chuckle with a baby
or the smell of freshly baked cookies

sometimes
its about the gratefulness
in words you can't begin to speak
sometimes its about a hit
thats such a near-miss
sometimes its about a hug
or a look
or a feeling

sometimes its about
a beating heart
a functioning liver
and a ...

sometimes its about a speechless tongue
that cannot speak these blessings
for it will take too long

My heart was still learning how to walk again
But somehow, you taught it how to skip